Bittersweet Sundae
by Eileen Blazer
Summary: New recruits Remy and Jean Paul bond over ice cream and (maybe) impossible love.


AN: This was a request by Kat. She wanted a movie-verse Jean Paul and Gambit bonding moment. And because she's nice enough to give me company, I agreed.

Warning: there's a bit of slashiness here, but not JP/Remy.

Bittersweet Sundae

By Eileen Blazer

January 2005

"I like it here." Remy LeBeau drawled to himself, as he settled into the round table, arranging his things neatly in front of him. All of the ingredients for a perfect sundae were there: chocolate syrup, cherries, whipped cream, ice cream, nuts… there was a nice perfection to be found in such simplicity, and not a single thing Remy could think of that would make the sundae any better.

Well.

He frowned and considered that thought again. It wasn't entirely true. There was one thing that could make it considerably better, but really, he wanted the kind of treat that could be peacefully enjoyed in a family setting –a _school_.

Ha.

He was at school. Oh, if his father could see him now. Remy stuck a spoon into the vanilla ice cream, imagining what Jean Luc's reaction would be to seeing his son in the X-Men uniform, snapping cuffs on a perpetrator and handing the criminal over to the police. There was no way to be sure, but Remy figured it would start off with surprise and end in some weak insult, like 'da only _traitor_ around is you'. Not that he cared much. His Concern For Father's Opinion Meter was broken, stuck on the 'shove it up your ass and tell it to the son you didn't throw out because he wouldn't marry an assassin' mode.

Once the scoops of vanilla were nestled safely in the smooth white bowl, he reached for the chocolate. He liked to sneak a layer between the ice cream and the whipped topping. A bit of the syrup dribbled down from the spout, onto the side of the container and into his hands. He frowned, reached up, and licked it off before it could create a bigger mess.

And…

Someone was watching him.

A smile crept into the corners of his mouth, and he briefly considered putting on a better show. Chocolate could be messy, messy, messy, and he'd always been something of an exhibitionist. But then he remembered –again- that he was at school, and he doubted it would leave a very good impression with Charles Xavier if it turned out the watcher in question was nine-year-old girl with braces and the power to replay unfortunate events in perfect detail for anyone who asked. Nearly wincing at that possibility, his eyes stole up in search.

They found Jean Paul Beaubier.

Oh. He'd practically forgotten that the Canadian was sitting at the other end of the table, just behind what appeared to be a wall of paper. Pen in hand, Jean Paul was watching him with a… mixed look. One part curiosity, one part appreciation -maybe he could've put on that show after all, and two parts why the hell are you eating all the ice cream. Remy smiled. Said, "'Allo,'' and earned himself an nod in acknowledgement.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Remy tilted the container of vanilla ice cream towards his fellow mutant and X-Men newbie. "Want some?"

"I've had my fill of ice cream today," and there was a drag, hesitancy to add the word 'cream' that made Remy smile. It was no secret to, well, _him_, that Jean Paul was something like infatuated with Robert Drake, a boy who –while being nice enough and all- seemed plainer than the vanilla, and carried with him a simplicity that was no where near perfection. And his less than ideal opinion of Iceman had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he was dating a Rogue.

A _lovely _and _fascinating _Rogue.

"Come on," Remy said with a sigh, scooting his chair in, so that he could better reach across the table. "I can't eat it alone."

"You were doing fine a minute ago, _mon ami_."

"Mais…" He inclined his head. "Now I'm not. Come on. Join me. Drown y' sorrows in a good sundae. Sometimes I believe it's better n' bourbon."

"Really."

"Well, really just until I realize dat it'd be best _wit'_ bourbon." Remy laughed.

"What makes you think I have sorrows to down? Maybe I'm perfectly happy."

"An' maybe I got clumsy hands, non? I'm not blind."

"No, but you wear those glasses frequently. It's entirely possible they get in the way of your seeing things clearly."

"An' m' hearin'?" Remy wondered, handing JP the chocolate syrup and whipped cream. The other man began assembling a sundae after all. "Sure Bobby, I'll drop y' off at da mall. I'll help y' wit' dat homework. Come by my room later, an' we'll discuss dat book y' readin'?"

"I'm not that pathetic."

"Okay. Whatever."

"You are, though."

Remy glanced up sharply. "Oh?"

Jean Paul rolled his eyes. "The way you pine over that girl. Rogue. Tease and fight with her, pretend like the two of you are playing some kind of game. I don't think she's playing, Gambit."

Remy stuck a spoon into his dish. "She is."

"And I don't know what you see in her. She's… bland. Argumentative. Controlling."

"She's beautiful."

"Annoying."

"Affectionate."

"Clingy."

"Better n' her boyfriend." Remy pointed out. "He's…"

"Funny?" Jean Paul supplied. "Oh, terrible trait."

"Possessive."

"Passionate."

"Ugly."

"Rather attractive, actually."

The two men locked gazes for a minute, falling into silence, neither willing to back down or completely confirm that they'd perhaps lost themselves to two halves of a whole couple.

Then… Remy sighed. "We suck."

"Pardon?"

Remy leaned over and dropped a handful of cherries into the container of vanilla, from which Jean Paul was eating. "We could bot' find someone else."

"Probably."

"But here we are. Me, you, and da whipped cream."

"Giving me ideas?" Jean Paul teased lightly, for the first allowing the corners of his mouth to spread into a grin.

"_Merci, mais j'attends quelqu'un_." Thanks, but I'm expecting someone.

"Oh, sure." Jean Paul shook his head. "_T'es un nul_."

"A loser? Hardly. Maybe I've just received better offers."

"Than me?" Jean Paul was more relaxed now, and comfortable with the teasing.

Remy was about to say something when…

"Aw, ya look so sweet!" A voice interjected in the conversation. Both men turned around to see Rogue and Bobby entering the kitchen, linked at the hand, all smiles and kindness and understanding. "Don't they make the cutest couple, Bobby?"

"Yeah," Drake smiled politely. "You guys do. Maybe sometime we'll all double date."

And then he was gone, pulling Rogue away from the scene as soon as she had her hand on a glass of soda, whispering secret words in her ear that made they both giggle.

"If I throw up this ice cream, would you be disgusted?" Jean Paul wondered when he and Remy were alone again.

"Non. I'd be too busy joinin' y'."

"_On est les champions_!" They both laughed, amused in a bad way.

"Y' really like him?" Remy wondered.

"If by 'really like' you mean do I find myself daydreaming during important training sessions that he'd pull himself out of the closet, slam me against the Danger Room wall and screw me senseless, forgetting everyone and everything else in the world, caring only for me, allowing me at last to slide my hands through that golden, silky hair, then… no."

"Oh."

Jean Paul sighed. "I lied. About Rogue. I think she is playing a game. You should definitely pursue her, and damn the consequences."

"Even if such blatant courtin' would break her boyfriend's heart?" Remy asked.

"Someone will come around and pick up the pieces, I'm certain."

Remy leaned back and took in the sight of Jean Paul. He wasn't an unattractive man. His age, maybe a little older, with pointy ears that would've driven girls crazy, if that had been his inclination. Black and silver hair, nice build, and there wasn't any reason why Robert Drake shouldn't be _glad_ to have such an admirer. He considered hopefully the possibility that maybe the boy was glad, and just didn't know it. After all, Drake was still young. Learning. Experiencing. He shared this hope with Jean Paul.

Who laughed.

"Feeling desperate tonight, Gambit?"

"It's da ice cream. It's turnin' me into a girl."

"And sexist, too."

"I prefer sexy."

"Don't we all."

Remy sighed. "Let's get outta here."

Jean Paul raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"It's a short ride t' da city. Let's find a club an' get ourselves laid."

Jean Paul looked down at his paperwork. "I've got…"

"Menottes? Bring 'em along. I'm sure some fille… homme is just waitin' f' you t' have a night o' kinky iceless fun."

"You have a filthy mind, Gambit."

"Bet y' wish I swung your way."

They laughed again, and this time it was a good laugh. A healthy laugh. Jean Paul took one last look at the paperwork on his desk and then nodded. "All right. Let's get out of here."

They left the ice cream on the table.


End file.
